


Just Friends

by c0smicqueer



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Trans!Malcolm Reed - Freeform, Wholesome, transgender character, wholesome gay content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0smicqueer/pseuds/c0smicqueer
Summary: Trip shows Malcolm the benefits of Vulcan neuropressure.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36





	1. 2300 Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Warp5Complex_Archivist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist). Log in to view. 



> Missing scenes from and after s3e15 "Harbinger." Inspired by time stamp 24:30 - 27:00. Definite Harbinger spoilers. Some dialogue taken from the episode. 
> 
> Be gentle - I wrote this in a few hours because I had to get it out. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I do not own Star Trek. All mistakes are my own.

“Look.” Trip growled. “For the last time. There’s nothin’ goin’ on with any o’ us,  _ between  _ any o’ us.” 

“Right. You’re all  _ just friends. _ ” He sneered.

“That’s right.” Trip affirmed.

“I guess this Vulcan neuropressure isn’t  _ that _ intimate after all.” Malcolm picked at his food for a moment, pushing peas around on his plate.

“Exactly.” Trip replied emphatically, taking a bite and frowning at Malcolm.

“Well, in that case, I’ve got a nasty little pain just…” He gestured at a pained spot in his side, smirking capriciously.

“Just drop it.” Trip said, venom coating his words. He made a frustrated gesture at Malcolm and stared him down aggressively.

Malcolm scoffed and looked down at his plate. He took another bite and smiled smugly.

——

Malcolm exited the shower after being dismissed from a verbal admonishment by the Captain. He and Hayes had gotten into it, verbally and physically, and beat each other fiercely. Malcolm sustained a detached retina, severe bruising on his face, ribs and knuckles, and a cracked rib or two. After the alien in sick bay succumbed to cellular degeneration, Malcolm and Hayes were called down to receive treatment. Phlox fixed his retina and used an osteogenic stimulator to assist in the mending of his fractured ribs. Archer insisted that Malcolm and Hayes heal from their bruises on a natural timeline as part of their punishment. The bruises to their skin and their pride were left.

_ God he can be quite an ass. I suppose I deserve it though for acting such a fool. _ Malcolm pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants, a black tee and soft black socks, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and then readied himself to do some much-needed stretching to release the tension in his body from the altercation. Malcolm had just rolled an exercise mat onto the floor and placed a towel and yoga block at the foot of the mat when he heard the door chime.  _ It’s 2300 hours. What could anyone possibly want right now?  _

He padded his way to the door and opened it to find Trip staring at him, beaming for a reason unbeknownst to him. When he saw Malcolm his face dropped. Trip’s eyebrows furrowed and his smile morphed into a deep frown. Malcolm appraised him, looking from his unkempt damp blond hair, down to his socked toes and back up again to his cool blue eyes. The tall, blond man was dressed in black jogger sweats, a white tee shirt with an embroidered green palm tree on the breast, gray socks, and black slide-on sandals. Malcolm raised his eyebrows at the engineer and smirked questioningly, silent. 

Trip bit his lip and scowled as Malcolm surveyed him and tilted his head in surprise.  _ Holy fuck, he’s torn to shreds! And did he just check me out? _ “Damn, Malcolm! Ya look like dog shit! What the hell happened?!” 

The lines characteristic of Malcolm’s discontent appeared on his forehead, and he frowned at Trip, still blocking the doorway to his quarters. “Now is that any way to talk to someone?” He looked at Trip skeptically. “Dog shit,” he repeated and scoffed.

Trip softened a smile, restraining the huge grin that threatened to break out, but it read more as a hesitant smirk. “Can I?” He gestured beyond Malcolm toward the room.

“Mm,” Malcolm grunted and moved out of the doorway to let Trip through. “Be my guest.” 

The door whooshed shut behind Trip, and Malcolm locked it as Trip walked past him. Trip noticed the exercise mat and turned to face Malcolm and the door. Malcolm’s arms were crossed against his chest. His posture was almost the same as ever, but his back and shoulders were bent slightly forward and to his right. It seemed he was actually in pain, likely from the earlier altercation with Hayes. Trip’s thoughts raced.  _ Maybe I should leave. Maybe this was a bad idea. _ The sound of Malcolm’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

“How can I help you at this late hour, Mr. Tucker?” 

Trip bit his lip again, then asked, “Did I interrupt somethin’?” He pointed a thumb over his left shoulder to the mat. “I can go.” He shrugged.

Malcolm blinked and looked at the mat behind Trip before meeting his eyes again, his face unreadable. “I can resume my night time stretches when you leave.” He paused and tilted his head just so, his lips upturned ever so slightly, the bruises on his face shadowing his features. He looked ragged, but amused.

“Oh um okay,” Trip stammered. His hand reflexively came up and he ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his head nervously. He shrugged and let his arm fall down to gesture while he spoke. “You said you were in pain at dinner and wanted to try neuropressure.” 

Malcolm smirked and blinked, still staring at Trip’s eyes.  _ I sure did give him hell today, the poor bastard.  _

A massive grin burst onto Trip’s face. “And it’s evident that ya did a little bit o’ tumblin’ today. Did ya’ meet a stray space bear?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes and huffed. His hands clenched and unclenched by his side, and he started to emanate agitation. Trip continued, looking proud of himself. “And, since we’re friends, I thought - well ya look like yer strainin’ a little. I thought maybe I could help.” One of his arms extended, palm up, gesturing at Malcolm for a moment. He faltered, “I mean yer posture ain’t as upright as it usually is. Ya look kinda hunched. And uh, sore.” His lilting drawl lingered on that word, and his eyes glinted with impish glee. 

Malcolm’s eyebrows rammed together, the displeasure on his face highlighted by the major bruising on his eye and forehead. He crossed his arms over his chest again, a defense mechanism Trip was very familiar with. Trip grinned, knowing he’d pegged Malcolm with the truth. Malcolm hated that Trip was so observant of him - it made him feel transparent. Still smiling, Trip took a step closer. “I think it might help, Malcolm.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Macolm’s eyes had left Trip for just a moment - he’d broken eye contact while he bristled at Trip’s observant nature - but they darted back as Trip moved closer. “Hmf. The bear’s name was Hayes.” 

Trip cackled. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Y'all need ta sort yer shit out."

Malcolm grunted and ignored him. “Phlox did say you gave Cole headaches.” Malcolm raised an eyebrow, a smile curling at the ends of his lips. 

“It might have been me, it might have been a microsingularity. But if yer willin’ to forego the risks and accept the side-effects,” he tilted his head in amusement, “then we could try it. I asked T’Pol to show me where the points are on the right side of the back, nearer to the side than the spine. That’s where it hurts, right?” 

Malcolm scowled at Trip’s observant nature again and then remembered he had pointed the spot out in jest at dinner to taunt him. “Yes, actually. My whole rib cage hurts after my spat with Hayes, but that spot has been giving me trouble for days.” 

“Thought so. T’Pol asked me why I needed to know since,” he paused and then imitated T’Pol’s monotone. “ _ It is illogical for you to perform this on yourself.  _ … So she did it to me.” Malcolm chuckled. “Anyway, she dropped it when I let her show me. Now, you wanna give this a shot er nah?” 

Malcolm removed his arms from their stiff position across his chest, sighed and smiled. “Well, it sounds promising. More appealing than another visit to Phlox, anyway.” 

“You shouldn’t need a visit to Phlox after this. He can do more fer those bruises than I can, though.” He frowned at the huge black spot covering Malcolm’s left eye. 

“Don’t wish that upon me, Trip. Archer told Phlox to leave the bruises as punishment for my er, meeting with Hayes.” Malcolm scoffed again and rubbed his neck. 

A concerned look materialized on Trip’s features. “The Cap’n’ made Phlox leave yer bruises? What the hell?!” He choked on the words. Malcolm shrugged it off and they shared a glance before Trip changed the subject.  _ Hint taken _ . “Anyway, so I’ll sit on your bed and you sit in front of me on the edge so I can reach ya’.” 

Malcolm nodded in affirmation. “Right then.” 

Trip climbed into Malcolm’s bed and propped himself against the bulkhead, drawing his knees up to his chest to make room for the surly armory officer. Malcolm looked at Trip warily and sat on the edge with his back to Trip. Trip scooted forward, letting his legs hang off the edge of the bed to either side of Malcolm. He positioned himself slightly closer to his friend’s body than arms-reach, and extended his arms out to touch Malcolm’s back. He placed both of his hands on Malcolm’s broad back over the shirt, palm-down and felt around for the tension in his right side. He stopped when he found a large, tight knot. “Here?”

Malcolm grunted and winced, his shoulders tightening as Trip applied pressure to the sensitive spot. 

“Okay.” Trip inhaled deeply. He left his right hand on the knot and used the other to grab the bottom of Malcolm's shirt. He lifted it gingerly and placed his hand on Malcolm’s skin, slowly rubbing his palm into Malcolm's back and making his way toward the sensitive area. Once he reached his other hand, he pushed gently on the knot with his fingers and Malcolm winced again. He let out a quick and short gasp of pain. Trip maneuvered his right hand into Malcolm’s shirt and put his palm against the man’s skin, feeling the warmth emanate from the knotted muscles.

He whistled and marveled, “You’ve got one knot right there, and I think it’s even bruised deep in the tissue.” 

“Yes, that appears to be the case.” His voice was clipped - his accent more pronounced as he strained to speak. The pressure felt good, but intense. 

Trip pushed softly again as Malcolm yelped. “Oh fuck, that’s sore. Careful!” 

Trip smiled just a little at Malcolm's irritated vulnerability.  _ Now I know how to disarm him - push into a bruise. Not that that would actually work in a fight, but it could.  _ “Alright, just try to relax yer shoulders an’ breathe. If yer tense, I might really mess things up fer ya.” 

Malcolm groaned. “Relaxing is not my  _ thing _ .” He sounded exasperated.

“Lieutenant, just do what I say. Roll yer shoulders back.” He grumbled and did as he was told. 

“Now breathe and drop ‘em more.'' He did. 

“Drop yer chin to yer chest an’ breathe.” He did.

“Okay, now roll yer neck in a circle 360 degrees, then 180 to the left an’ 180 back down an’ then 180 to the right an’ back down an’ then bring yer head upright.'' Malcolm grunted and then followed Trip’s string of directions. 

“Now count your breaths - four in an’ seven out - an’ don’t stop until I tell ya’ to.” Malcolm looked suspiciously over his shoulder at Trip, eyes squinting before turning back and starting the breathing exercise.

“That’s it. Close yer eyes.” Trip stole a look over Malcolm’s shoulder to make sure the man’s eyes were closed, and sighed happily when he found they were.  _ I wonder how long it’s gonna take Malcolm to get irritated and disengage? He seems fine though.  _

_ “ _ Try to really feel my hands on yer back - feel where my fingertips are, the warmth from the touch.” He rubbed his fingertips into Malcolm’s back and increased the pressure very slowly. Malcolm flinched at the stabbing pain, then felt the ache well up in his tissue. 

“Breathe, Malcolm,” Trip urged. He complied. 

Trip kept rubbing, trying to coax the knot out. Once Malcolm stopped flinching and his breathing regulated, Trip pulled his palms away and left his thumb and forefinger of each hand on Macolm’s back. He searched for the pressure points above, below, and to the sides of the knot. He found the one just above it, and pressed both of his thumbs down hard. Malcolm sighed and groaned. 

“How does that feel? Good?” 

“Mm.” Malcolm mumbled. 

“Good,” Trip said softly, a smile gracing his lips. He pressed a tad harder and Malcolm groaned again, leaning back toward Trip. His thumbs moved below the knot and found the second point, repeating the pushing twice, eliciting more sighs and groans. Malcolm’s shoulders fell a bit more with each press of Trip’s thumbs and a relaxed look washed over his face. His skin was tinged with a hint of pink. 

After Trip was done manipulating the pressure points, he returned his palms to Malcolm’s back and used them to knead the surrounding muscles. After the neuropressure was applied, they weren’t as hot to the touch, and the knot in Malcolm’s back started to release. Malcolm’s breathing hitched for a moment before he caught it and took a deep breath to restart the rhythm. Trip smiled.  _ He’s a good soldier - good at following directions, especially when he don’t think they’re stupid. _ Trip kept rubbing the knot until he was satisfied that it was as loose as he could get it. Then he rubbed just a bit further up and then down before tenderly pulling his hands away and letting Malcolm's shirt fall back down.

“Better?” Trip leaned back against the bulkhead, placed hands on his thighs, and smiled smugly. Malcolm glanced at Trip over his shoulder, lips upturned in a half smile, and his eyes glinted. 

“Yeah, actually. Thanks.” He rubbed his neck with one hand before standing up. 

“You should drink a glass a’ water now, since I just broke up all that lactic acid. It’ll help yer body process it.” Trip nodded seriously at Malcolm. 

“You learn that from T’pol?” He asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“Nope, high school football.” His grin was almost as big as the Denobulan doctor’s. 

Malcolm looked at him unconvinced before grabbing two glasses and getting water from the tap in his bathroom. “I should’ve pegged you for a jock with those ridiculous sandals.” 

“What do ya mean?! They’re just slides, Malcolm. They’re like slippers but not for grumpy old men like Jon.” He cackled.

Malcolm laughed and then handed a glass to Trip. He drank deeply and finished the water, then set the glass on the shelf above the bed. He stood in front of Trip, staring and considered pouncing on him.  _ Maybe I’d better not. _

Trip scooted forward, knees bent over the edge of the bed and put his feet flat on the floor. Malcolm stood in front of him and stared at him through tired, lidded eyes. “All I mean is that I’m not surprised you played American football in school.”

“Why is that?” Trip took a drink of the water and blinked at Malcolm over the edge of the glass. 

“I’ve heard it's very prevalent in the American Southeast for people to be very engaged with the sport. I’m not sure what the draw is.” He raised an eyebrow, surveying Trip’s response. 

“Hey now, it’s a pastime at this point.” He raised both of his arms about chest height, palms up and gestured animatedly while he spoke. “There’s the game itself, which is strategy an’ athletics combined, but there’s also the marching band an’ the music, the cheerleaders - of all genders now mind you - on the sidelines an’ durin’ halftime. An’ hearin’ the fight song every time yer team scores a touchdown an’ then a field goal is one o’ the best feelin’s in the world.” He paused for a moment and then rubbed his stomach. “An’ then there’s the concession stand food!” His eyes opened wider as he called on his happy memories. “Man, popcorn and chili dogs and a Coke at a football game sounds real good right now.” 

“I see.” Malcolm said warily. “It all sounds rather loud.”

“It is! That's the fun of it! The band is deafening, an’ there’s so many people you get lost in the crowd. It’s like bein’ in a city. But there are family an’ friends that show up to support an’ have a good time. I guess I miss it. I wonder if we could have football night instead of movie night one month?” He mused.

Malcolm snickered. “If nobody wants to watch water polo with the captain, why would you assume they wanted to watch American football?”

“Because it’s football, Malcolm! It’s not boring like water polo.” He smirked. “But don’t tell Jon I said that.” He laughed. 

“If you say so.” Malcolm offered plainly. He remained in front of Trip, watching him tentatively. 

Trip smiled up at him from the bed and leaned forward. He stood up, just a few inches from Malcolm. Trip looked down at him, directly into his steel-gray eyes, lost in them for a few moments.  _ I could just… well nah. _ “Well, I guess if yer feelin’ better, then I should get to bed. It’s late.” The chronometer on Malcom’s wall read 00:25.

“Mm,” Malcolm muttered, stepping to the side so Trip could get by him. 

Trip paused, biting his lip, not wanting to leave. “Unless yer still in pain? I mean, Hayes really gave ya hell today.” He smirked and dropped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “I hope ya returned the favor.”

“I’ve got another knot in my shoulder actually.” He glanced away and scoffed, clearly embarrassed. 

“Show me. Why didn’t ya tell me before?” That kicked puppy look washed over his face as he fretted over Malcolm. 

“Because you’d be here all night if you tried to work out every knot in my body,” Malcolm stated, rolling his eyes and huffing.

“What, ya don’t want me in yer cabin all night?” Trip teased, his lip caught between his teeth. 

“Sounds tempting, Commander. That depends, what kind of games would you like to play at this sleepover?”

“I’m sure we could think of somethin’ ta do.” He shoved Malcolm on the chest playfully. Malcolm flinched. “Oh shit, sorry. Is that where it hurts?”

Malcolm nodded and reached his right hand up to his left shoulder and rubbed the part of his pectoral muscle just under his collar bone where it connected his chest muscle to his shoulder to indicate where the pain was.

“Now  _ that _ is a tendon.” Trip looked unsurprised.

“I’m aware, and it hurts. There’s a knot in my pectoral muscle as well.” 

“Ya  _ really _ oughta go to Phlox before all these aches an’ pains leave ya stuck an unable to move, ya know.”

Malcolm grunted. “You offered to help. If you don’t want to, I have stretches to do.”

“Alright, alright, simmer down.” Trip took Malcolm’s right shoulder in his left hand and pulled him a few inches closer. He saw a light blush creeping up Malcolm’s neck from under his tee. He stepped closer and pushed Malcolm’s hand away from his chest. Malcolm let him and kept his arm on his chest, just below his pecs. He rested his fingertips on his sternum. Trip looked into his eyes and smiled, and then dropped his eyes to where his hand rested on Malcom’s chest. He applied light pressure, trying not to aggravate the tendon. 

“Mmm, I dunno, Malcolm. This is a sensitive spot. If I do the neuropressure wrong, I could make your arm go numb.” He raised an eyebrow and stuck his tongue out in concentration. 

“That would be unfortunate. I need that arm.” 

Trip laughed. “For more than poundin’ Hayes, I hope.” Malcolm laughed at the accidental double entendre. Trip paused and considered the knot on Malcolm’s chest. “Well, Malcolm. I don’t feel comfortable finding the pressure points for this but-” he looked down at the shorter man, judging whether he would accept or deny the next offer. “I can try to massage it to calm it down some.” He shrugged, and let his thumb idly rub Malcolm’s inflamed tendon. 

“Sounds good.” Malcolm said quietly, blinking slowly. His features were soft and calm and his eyes were bright.

“Mmkay well, I need ta’...” he tugged on the bottom of Malcom’s shirt and lifted it some. Malcolm looked down and then back up at Trip and nodded permission. 

Trip chuckled nervously. As he lifted up Malcolm’s shirt, he imagined rubbing his hand across his hip bone, up to his chest, and smoothing the skin over the bruise on his left pectoral. He blinked a few times and steadied his breathing. Although he had performed neuropressure with T’Pol and Cole, and had been intimate with T’Pol in a more biblical sense, he hadn’t touched many people this way. He felt an intimacy with Malcolm he didn’t have with the others. A memory of the previous night’s experiences with T’pol flashed in his mind. An uncomfortable expression passed across his face.

“Are you alright?” Malcolm asked with a curious voice.

“‘M fine.” His voice was curt.

“We can stop if you’re tired,” Malcolm offered, searching Trip’s ocean eyes for answers.  _ Have we gone too far? Is he powering through because I pushed him? _

“‘M okay, I just remembered somethin’ I don’t wanna think about right now.” Trip pushed his thumb into Malcolm’s muscle, working on the knot. 

“Oh.” Malcolm’s body jerked toward Trip, surprised by the sensation. 

Trip pulled Malcolm’s shirt up to his neck, revealing his entire abdomen and most of his chest. He surveyed the lithe body, from his waistband up to his shoulder. Malcolm’s skin was pale and tinted with pink undertones. He was covered in bruises from his fight with Hayes - purple and black splotches, some of which were turning yellow and green at the edges. His hips were slightly wider than his waist and they looked soft and pliable.  _ Grabbable. _ He had black hair lining his belly and peeking out from his waistband. His waist was slim but solid. Trip’s eyes followed the trail of Malcolm’s hair up his midsection to his chest. His pectoral muscles were hard and defined. There were light pink scars lining the bottoms of his pecs, almost invisible under the muscle mass. They looked aged and flat. Trip ran a thumb over Malcolm’s right pec, feeling the scar’s slightly raised surface. It was soft in some spots and a bit harder in others. Malcolm’s nipples were light brown with a few flecks of pink, and light pink scars circled around them as well. Trip thought about touching them, wondered what they felt like and how Malcolm would react.

Malcolm watched Trip as he explored his body. The blond’s eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration. A bead of sweat had collected on his forehead, and his cheeks were rosy. His facial expression resembled what Malcolm called “Engineer Mode.” He was problem solving - distracted. Malcolm let out a quiet breath and felt blood pooling in his neck and moving toward his face. The warmth spread like a fire. 

Trip heard Malcolm’s gasp and brought his eyes up. He could see Malcom’s blush forming as his thumb ran over the long, thin scars under his pecs.  _ I didn’t know. Why didn’t he tell me? I mean, it’s not a big deal but… I thought we were close enough to share things like that? Well. I haven’t told him I’m bi. I guess people don’t have to come out nowadays but… Huh. He’ll tell me if he wants to talk about it I’m sure.  _

Malcolm bit his lip, trying to gauge if Trip had figured out what caused the scars.  _ What is the bloody bastard thinking? Have you figured it out yet?  _ Malcolm’s face seemed to plead with Trip.  _ Don’t make me say it out loud, not now. I don’t feel like talking about it. Just, fix my arm you bastard.  _ He huffed and pulled back from Trip. He expected the worst, that Trip would storm out and act a fool. That they would get in a fight, that he would have more bruises, that Trip would say something stupid.

Trip grasped Malcolm’s shoulder tighter as Malcolm pulled away, and then he hooked his thumb under the shirt and started to pull it up and over Malcolm’s shoulders. “Sorry,” he licked his lips. “This has to come off for me to get to uh, the knot.” 

Malcolm eyed Trip suspiciously then sighed and raised his arms so Trip could pull his shirt off. When it was removed, Trip dropped it just behind him on the bed. Malcolm lowered his arms to his sides and waited. Trip grabbed Malcolm’s shoulders again and pulled him in closer this time. His hand found the inflamed area, and pushed on the muscles around the tendon to smooth them out. Malcolm closed his eyes and resumed the breathing pattern Trip had instructed him to use earlier. His body seemed to melt into Trip’s hands. A large grin spread across Trip’s face and he leaned in closer, and his cheek brushed against Malcolm’s forehead. Trip’s left thumb absentmindedly rubbed Malcolm's shoulder while he worked on the knot and the tendon with his other hand. Malcolm groaned and gasped when Trip found a pressure point and pushed down hard, releasing the tension from his chest. He rubbed the affected area and found two more points, eliciting the same reaction. He rubbed his whole hand against Malcolm’s chest for a few more moments before slowly pulling away.

“Oh,” Malcolm muttered. His eyes opened when Trip’s hands left his skin, missing the touch. “Nice,” he said, his voice gravelly with pleasure.

Trip returned his hands to Malcom’s shoulders and stepped closer.  _ I could... _ He ran his hands down Malcolm’s chest again and then pulled his fingertips down and along Malcolm’s ribs. He caressed the bruises Hayes had left on his soft skin. He wanted so badly to kiss them away - to steal a dermal regenerator from Phlox and at least remove the bruises Archer couldn’t see. 

Trip’s fingers wrapped around Malcolm’s sides, settling on his ribs. He held him there and leaned forward slowly. Malcolm raised his head and looked expectantly at Trip. “I hope I helped.” He whispered, trying to meter the desire in his voice. 

“Yeah, you did.” Malcolm’s voice was low and distorted.

Trip blushed and dropped his hands to his sides nervously. He rubbed his thumbs against his forefingers, trying to calm himself. He leaned back and picked up Malcolm’ss shirt and offered it to him.

“Thanks.” he took it and then shifted his weight to one side, disappointment settling on his face. “Actually,” he dropped the shirt onto the floor and took a step back from Trip, allowing him an escape. “I suppose I can just stretch and go to bed.”

“That sounds like a plan.” The blush had spread from Trip’s neck to his cheeks. He smiled and downed the rest of his water. “Drink more water - it’ll help ya process.” He stepped forward and placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, squeezing him once. 

“Breakfast tomorrow at 0700?” He made his way to the door, pausing as he pressed the release. The door didn’t open.

Malcolm strode across the room and put a hand on Trip’s back to get his attention. “I will see you then.” He unlocked the door, his bare chest brushing against Trip’s back. Trip fought another blush and passed through the door as it opened. Malcolm leaned against the doorway for a moment and waved at him as Trip backed away, a sheepish expression on his face. He paused and then took a step toward Malcolm and placed his lips gingerly on the shorter man’s. Malcolm returned the kiss, opening his lips and letting the tip of his tongue graze Trip’s mouth. 

“Oh fuck.” Trip muttered and backed away again, a shit eating grin plastered all over his face. Malcolm gave him a smug look and then Trip strode down the hall, hand running through the hair on the back of his head. His shoulders were back and his head high. He looked happy. Malcolm stared at his ass for a moment and then disappeared into his room, pleased as punch.

“I guess this Vulcan neuropressure is that intimate after all.” He chuckled to himself and fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling until he drifted to sleep. 


	2. 2115 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm suffers through a 13 hour shift. Things get heated between the boys. There are vulnerable revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //////  
> CW: suggestion of sexual assault, but not graphic or confirmed. internalized homo&transphobia.   
> //////
> 
> (Don't worry, it's not too sad. Just angsty. Then sexy.)
> 
> Missing scenes after s3e15 "Harbinger." Inspired by time stamp 24:30 - 27:00. Definite Harbinger spoilers. 
> 
> I do not own Star Trek. All mistakes are my own.

Trip splashed cool water over his face. He’d only slept four hours. It had been difficult to wind down after his encounter, and first kiss, with Malcolm just a few hours before. He woke around 0600, having trouble staying asleep after a particularly powerful nightmare.  Trip turned his attention back to the mirror. There were slight bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep and nightmare, but he was sure they would clear up after breakfast. He busied himself shaving and heard his PADD ping with a notification. When he was done he dried his face with a stray towel and grabbed the PADD.

AC: Hey :) 

Trip’s stomach sank. The air escaped from his lungs momentarily.  _ Shit _ . 

AC: Trip? 

CT: Hey Cole 

AC: Good morning. Are you up for breakfast?

CT: Sorry, I had plans to meet Lieutenant Reed and talk over some weapons upgrades. 

AC: K

_ Fuck, she’s gonna kick my ass at the next trainin’ session. It’s not like we had plans. It’s not like it had ta be more than that kiss she gave me. We really are just friends.  _ Trip massaged his forehead for a second and glanced at the chronometer on his desk. It read 0615.  _ 45 minutes until breakfast with Malcolm. Gotta hurry up an’ get ready.  _

As Trip stood up a wave of nausea washed over him. He leaned forward and braced himself on his desk, gripping the edge hard enough to whiten his knuckles. There was a tightness in his chest and a fuzzy string of images tugged at his mind. He started to sweat. This had happened a few other times recently, but it felt worse now. 

The intrusive images were in a second person perspective, but not his own. He couldn’t tell whose vision he was dreaming and then remembering. Usually they were looking at him, staring at him from around corners of bulkheads and across the room. Sometimes he looked engaged with his onlooker and other times he was talking with other people - laughing, working. 

The particular memory plaguing him that morning was different, though. It seemed familiar. The onlooker was close to his face, kissing him. His hair was wet and their surroundings were obscured by steam.  _ Malcolm? No.  _ A slender, olive hand grabbed his shoulder and they were staring at his neck. The hand shoved him hard against the wall. The kisses came hard and unwelcome. Trip’s expression looked shocked and afraid, and he shoved the person off himself. 

Trip coughed and his body shuddered. He ran to the head and fell to his knees, emptying his stomach into the toilet. Sweat dropped down his forehead and cheeks, some salty droplets made their way into his eyes. It burned and his vision blurred. He stamped his eyes shut and concentrated on regulating his breathing and heartbeat.  _ In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, five, six, seven _ . He repeated the mantra until the last of the images stopped and his pulse had slowed to normal.  He stood slowly and clutched his stomach. It gurgled, and Trip felt the sting of bile at the back of his throat. He brushed his teeth again and then set about getting into his uniform. The chronometer read 06:45. Trip grabbed his pad, pulled on his boots, and dashed out of his quarters toward the mess. 

—— 

Malcolm strode into the mess at 0700 sharp. He looked generally well rested and calm. He made his way to the serving station and grabbed a plate with a small helping of eggs, two pieces of sausage, and a piece of buttered toast cut into two triangles. There were small bowls of fruit, and he picked one of those up as well. Lastly, a cup of hot coffee, black. When he looked up from his drink, he surveyed the room and found Trip near the back corner, lost in his breakfast.

“Morning, Commander.” He set his tray down and situated himself in the chair across from Trip.  _ A reasonable distance. I feel giddy like a child. Damn. _

“Trip.” The blond corrected. Then he looked up from his food, an uncomfortable smirk on his lips. “Mornin” Lieutenant.” He still felt nauseated from the visions. Food wasn’t helping. 

_ Damn, he regrets it.  _ Malcolm picked at his food for a moment and then took a bite. “Sleep well?” Malcolm offered a harmless flirt to test the waters. 

“Mostly. Had a nightmare.” He grumbled and took a sip of water, trying to settle his stomach. 

“Oh, pity. I slept like a baby. Thanks for that.” Malcolm smiled, trying to encourage Trip to make that big, prideful grin he always made when he won an argument or fixed the warp engine or made someone feel good.

Trip’s eyes shifted up from his plate. “Anytime, darlin’.” He blushed as soon as he realized what he said, and popped a piece of bacon in his mouth to avoid having to speak more. Malcolm’s lips parted in the biggest smile Trip had ever seen.  _ Well I’ll be damned. He liked that! _

_ Darlin’.  _ Malcolm blushed and averted his eyes from Trip. He picked up his coffee and wrapped his fingers around the mug and through the handle, feeling the heat pulse through his hand. He studied the steam as it rose from the liquid into the air, then dissipated.  _ He called me darlin’.  _ He sighed softly and drank from the cup, feeling the coffee wash over his tongue, almost burning, and then fall back and down his throat as he swallowed. He put the mug down. 

“So, uh, what are yer plans in the armory today?” Trip inquired, his skin still tinted pink under his glowing sun kissed cheeks. 

“There are some upgrades to the weapons that I have been considering implementing. There is a discrepancy in my calculations, though. Something isn’t lining up right and I’m not sure where I’ve gone wrong. Actually,” Malcolm raised a finger and pulled a PADD from his pocket. “I thought maybe you could double check my work?” He held it out to Trip.

Trip took the PADD and let his fingers steal a brush with Malcolm’s. He held it in front of him and skimmed it, then sent it to his own PADD for later. He ignoed his breakfast. A new task had arrived, and eating was of little consequence anyway since he felt so sick. He handed the PADD back to Malcolm.

Malcolm played with his food and then ate half of everything, trying to force nutrients into his body. Eating was one of his least favorite things. It took too much time, it made him feel sick sometimes, and he was deathly allergic to his favorite food. He ate anyway, knowing that he felt weaker without it, and today’s shift was going to be long.  Another of Archer’s punishments post Hayes-altercation was an extra four hours in Engineering at the end of his nine hour bridge shift to help them catch up on repairs. “I’ll also be in Engineering from about 1700 to 2100.” 

Trip looked up from his food, confused. “What? Why? That’s like a twelve-thirteen hour shift.” 

“Yeah. One of the consequences of meeting a stray space bear.” He sighed bitterly and drank more of his coffee.

“I dunno what’s gotten into him. Somethin’s goin’ on, he's changin’.” Trip furrowed his brow and looked at Malcolm tentatively. The massive bruise on the left side of his face was yellowing around the edges after his sleep last night. His eyelid was still blue and splotched with some red. There was a black and blue spot on his neck, peeking out from his uniform’s collar. Phlox had relieved the swelling so Malcolm could at least see, but Trip imagined it was tender to the touch, and hot. 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows and waved at Trip. “Commander? Trip?” Malcolm’s head turned sideways.

Trip shook his head, coming back to reality. “Sorry.” He smirked and put the PADD in his lap before forcing down another slice of bacon and a few bites of buttery grits. 

Malcolm surveyed Trip and clasped his hands together on the table. “What was your nightmare about?” He inquired quietly. 

“I dunno, Malcolm. It’s weird. I saw myself bein’ watched.” He paused and scooted some of the grits around with a spoon nervously. “I’ve had dreams like this before an’ they were weird but this one was different.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow and kept his eyes trained on Trip’s expression. He looked frustrated and a tad afraid.

“This time, I watched from someone else’s perspective as they…” He hesitated and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Shoved me and kissed me real hard. I could feel their feelings. They were enraged and trying to force me to...” He shook his head. 

“Oh, Trip, that sounds awful. Malcolm reached across the table and brushed his fingers against Trip’s hand. Trip flinched and looked up but didn’t oppose the touch. Malcolm squeezed his hand then removed it, not wanting to linger too long. “Maybe you should go see Phlox? He might have some medical insight.” 

Trip shook his head. “Nah, I don’t wanna bother him with this. It’s just dreams.” He shrugged and ate another spoonful of grits.  _ Malcolm’s hand isn’t the hand. That’s good.  _ He grunted. 

“I suppose. But if they continue?” Malcolm looked worried for his friend. 

“It’s  _ fine _ ,  _ Lieutenant _ . I can take care of  _ myself _ .” He huffed. His voice sounded strained and angrier than he meant it to.

Malcolm pulled back from Trip, stung by his tone. It wasn’t surprising to him - Trip had closed off so much when his sister Lizzie died that he came to expect being shut out. But things were a little different now, now that they’d shared such an intimate night. He stared at Trip, watching the frustration on his expression. When Trip looked up from his food and made eye contact with Malcolm again he sighed. “I’m sorry, Malcolm.” 

It was in that moment that he, Malcolm Reed, knew he had feelings for one Chief Engineer Charles “Trip” Tucker III.  _ Fuck _ . “I forgive you.” He put on a half smile and rubbed his fingers against his coffee mug nervously. 

“Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to lash out at you. It’s not your fault.” Trip was still staring into his eyes. 

Malcolm restrained a blush. “It’s fine, really. You’ve said worse.”  _ Ouch. Sorry Trip.  _

“I deserve that.” He looked away and ate some more, then downed his orange juice. He set the glass down and glanced at the chronometer on the wall; it read 0745. “I guess I better get to Engineerin’. You wanna meet back here at 2115 for a snack after yer extra shift?” He forced a small smile and raised an eyebrow. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Malcolm gathered his dishes and deposited them where they belonged. Trip followed and they walked out of the mess together. They diverged in a hall and took separate turbo lifts to Engineering and the Bridge, parting for the next thirteen hours and thirty minutes.

——

The day passed in relative calmness. The ship was on a continuing course toward Azati prime where the crew expected to find the Xindi weapon. The Bridge crew continued their research about the spheres and the trans-dimensional alien, the Engineering crew performed maintenance and upgrades, and the armory crew was tasked with modifying the weapons systems for maximum efficiency. 

Malcolm’s nine hour shift came and went. He alternated his time between the bridge and the armory, checking and double checking everything he worked on. His body ached from the fight he had with Hayes. On his lunch break he stopped by Sick Bay to get a hypospray for mild pain. Phlox obliged and clicked his tongue sadly when he saw Malcolm’s yellowing bruises.

“I apologize, Mr. Reed. I tried to convince him it was unnecessary to leave you with the bruises.” He frowned pityingly. 

“It’s fine, Doctor. Thank you.” He pursed his lips and nodded. He stood, then exited Sick Bay primly. 

After his first shift was over, Malcolm grabbed a protein bar from the mess. Trip was at a table with Amanda Cole, talking animatedly. His back was turned to the door. Malcolm could only see her Cole's face, twisted up in a disgusted scowl.  _ She looks right displeased.  _ Malcolm smirked and jealousy welled up in his throat. He left the mess quickly and joined the Engineering crew.

It was Rostov’s shift. He busied Malcolm with simple, boring tasks knowing that he was there on punishment. Rostov was of the mind that people don’t work well through negative reinforcement, so he didn’t want to ask Malcolm to do anything important. He figured he wouldn’t be engaged, and that’s not how things ran down in Engineering. They were a passionate crew. 

Rostov was right. Malcolm was extremely disengaged and distracted. He couldn’t stop picturing Trip with Amanda, and then T’Pol.  _ I mean obviously he’s bi. That man doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to, not unless it’s life or death. He wouldn’t have kissed me or touched me or come to my quarters if…  _ His thoughts trailed off and were replaced by images of Trip’s eyes sparkling at T’Pol and Cole. He remembered how Trip and Cole touched each other in the training session with Hayes. How they laughed and got on. He was green with envy. 

Malcolm groaned, irritated with himself. He shook his head as he fumbled with a replacement relay. He dropped it and scoffed at himself, rubbing his forehead.  _ What a day.  _ He picked the relay back up and attached it correctly, taking more time and care than he usually would have had to. He was exhausted. His feet ached from the long shift, he was dehydrated, and he hadn’t eaten enough at lunch to sustain him through the second six hours of his shift. As he closed the last panel, his hands trembled. 

Rostov appeared behind Malcolm. “Sir, it’s 2055. Please, go get something to eat in the mess. You look terrible.” Rostov grimaced, hoping he wasn’t going to get smacked. 

“Thanks, Rostov. I’ll see you around.” Malcolm shook his hand and nodded, then left Engineering swiftly. As he walked down the hall to the turbo lift, his jealousy grew.  _ I could just skip dinner. Eat tomorrow. Avoid him. I don’t want to be a third or fourth consideration, strung along without a thought. And now that he knows I’m trans, what does he think? I’m not a bloody woman. Does he see me as a woman? Because he likes women, like Cole and T’Pol? Is he even bi? Does he even fucking see me? I thought we were friends! I thought... _

The turbo lift opened into a hallway just down from the mess. As Malcolm stepped out, fuming, Trip rounded a corner, hair wet and dressed down in civvies. “Malcolm!” 

Malcolm scowled at him and didn’t respond. He walked toward the mess with determination and averted his eyes away from Trip. 

“Malcolm?” Trip caught up to him and they walked in stride until they reached the mess hall doors. Trip let Malcolm go first, assuming he was angry because he was hungry and because this particular punishment had been, in his opinion, severe. Good thing the mess was empty. No one liked to deal with a hangry Malcolm Reed, except maybe Trip.

Malcolm continued to ignore him. He strode to the cabinet with food leftover from dinner. There were a few warm plates with asparagus and seared pork chops and some bowls of salad. Malcolm took one of each and procured a large glass of water as well. He didn’t look back at Trip, just found a table on the furthest side of the room and sat down, his back to the wall. 

Trip’s face screwed up in confusion as he followed Malcolm to the cabinet. He grabbed a bowl of chocolate pudding that Chef made from scratch and walked to Malcolm’s table. He didn’t ask to sit down, he just made himself comfortable across from the dark-haired, angry armory officer. He started in on his pudding quietly, waiting for Malcolm to engage. 

Malcolm scarfed his food. He hadn’t eaten more than a full meal in the last 24 hours. It had taken a toll. After he finished the last bite of pork chop, he drank his glass of water and left to get another. Trip noted he left his plates on the table, which was a sign that he was coming back. He reappeared momentarily with another glass of water and a slice of pineapple upside down cake. He sat down silently and ate the cake slowly, relishing the sweetness. After he was done, he wiped his mouth and met Trip’s gaze.

“Could you stare any harder?” He growled.

“What’s wrong with you?” Trip questioned incredulously. “I know you had a long day but I’m not sure why I’m gettin’ the cold shoulder.” He raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, trying to keep his expression neutral rather than irritated.

Malcolm searched Trip’s face for any sign of understanding. None was there. He folded his hands together and sat back in his chair. His lips were pursed and his eyes closed. “I saw you with Miss Cole at lunch.” He huffed.

“And?” Trip asked, confused. 

“You said there was nothing going on between anyone, because of the neuropressure. That it wasn’t intimate.” He flushed a little, but kept his eyes closed. He rocked in the chair some, soothing himself and trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Ohhhhh,” Trip drawled. “That’s why yer mad? Malcolm, she hunted me down at lunch an’ wouldn’t leave me alone til I talked to her.”

“Sounds familiar.” He snapped, referencing Trip not taking the hint.

“Malcolm,” his voice was assertive. “It’s not the same. I was tellin’ her it was better not to continue neuropressure with her.” 

“Is that so?” He kept his eyes closed, still irritated, still avoiding Trip and the conflict and his jealousy. It ran very, very deep. He realized he was being an insecure prat, but ignored it, not wanting to be wrong.

“Yes, Mal. I know I said neuropressure wasn’t intimate, and that we were just friends. And it’s mostly true. I just don’t feel intimate with  _ her.  _ But…” He blanched, feeling uncomfortable. “Can we talk about this in my quarters? Or yours? I don’t want to have this conversation in public.” 

Malcolm opened his eyes and gazed at Trip. His expression was pleading. “Fine.” Malcolm stood and gathered all of the dishes and deposited them in the dirty bin. “Your quarters. Lead the way.” 

Trip rolled his eyes and walked out of the galley toward his room. Malcolm followed and kept a distance of at least a meter between them at all times.  _ He’s such a prickly bastard sometimes _ , Trip thought _.  _ He punched the code to his quarters and the door opened. He gestured for Malcolm to enter first then followed him in. He swiped a toolbox and a stack of PADDs off a chair and offered it to Malcolm. Malcolm sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. Trip sat on the edge of his bed and rested his hands on his thighs.

“Back to what I was sayin’.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs subconsciously. “Cole was pissed because I blew her off fer breakfast to be with you.” 

Malcolm raised an eyebrow but his expression stayed stony otherwise.

“She said, an' I quote, all I talk about when I’m around her is you.” He paused. His azure eyes looked intense, surveying Malcolm. He was still as a statue, unmoved by Trip’s admission. “Mal, I was rubbin’ her feet an’ back an’ all I could think about or talk about was you, how you act an’ work an’ think.” 

Malcolm blinked at Trip and his brows furrowed. “Why?” He asked, his voice twisted up in confusion.

Trip raised his eyebrows and blinked at Malcolm. “Are you listenin’ to what I just said? She confronted me because I like you and not her, ya ass!” 

Malcolm’s stomach flipped and the color drained from his face. He felt his skin get clammy.  _ This is not what I expected at all.  _ Whenever he miscalculated, which was quite often when it came to feelings and romance, he felt distressed. He managed a “Hmm,” and bit his lip, stuck in his thoughts. 

“I did want ta tell you two things, but I didn’t wanna scare you away. I wanted you ta know how I felt first.” Trip looked imploringly at Malcolm. “Are you listenin' to me?”

“Yes.” His steel eyes flitted up to meet the blue starburst of Trip’s eyes. There were lines in Trip’s brow and to the sides of his eyes. He was clearly straining, being vulnerable like this. A rosy blush colored his cheeks and neck. “Yes, Trip, I’m listening.” Malcolm said, his voice more even.

Trip took a big breath and then sighed. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees. “I  _ like  _ you, Malcolm Reed. Like, like you. I’m bi. I’ve been bi as long as I can remember. I’ve had relationships with men.” He looked at Malcolm, trying to assure him that he was telling the truth. “It’s been three years since we met and my feelings for you have always been…” He stuttered. “There. I dunno. I figured it out this morning when Cole called me a dumbass for not knowin' what she was mad about.” 

Malcolm turned his head and stayed silent, unsure of what to say. He wanted to scream  _ I like you too!  _ but held back. “What… what else were you going to say that would scare me away?” 

“Well… and please, please hear me out, 'cause it’s been confusin' and I haven’t talked to anyone about it. Not even Jon.” Trip leveled with Malcolm and bit his lip. “Cole kissed me the other day when we were doin’ neuropressure. I kissed her back because I was surprised, and because she’s pretty. But,” he grimaced. 

Malcolm took in a sharp breath and held it, feeling the jealousy flood back into his chest. It took everything in him not to call Trip a lying bastard and storm out. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, waiting for the rest.

“I don’t like her. I’m just a sucker for attention, honestly. But you know that.” A small smile. 

“That was one thing.” Malcolm said, voice cold.

“Yeah…” Trip muttered. He clasped his hands and looked at the floor. His breathing became uneven and he rubbed his hands together, trying to work through whatever he was about to tell Malcolm. Malcolm tried to soften his features and his voice. He knew what it was like to hate being vulnerable, yet here Trip was baring his soul.  _ Courage. He has so much of it. I don’t get it.  _

“Well, things between T’Pol and me have gotten...complicated.” He glanced up at Malcolm and noted that he looked less angry and then looked away. He didn’t want to see his gorgeous face change when he told him the next secret. “We…” He faltered. “We had sex.” He sighed. “It was only once! And it was good, but…” He shook his head, frustration evident on his face. “I mean… she said she was explorin’ human sexuality and nature. It was like… an experiment. And she insulted me for havin’ feelin’s about it!” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “We’re supposed to continue neuropressure but I feel like shit about it. I dunno what to do. It’s all so damn complicated.”

All of the air left Malcolm’s lungs when Trip said the word sex out loud. The room felt smaller, claustrophobic. His body went from cold to hot to cold again, rapidly cycling between contempt and distress.  _ How could I be so bloody stupid?  _ He bit the inside of his lip until he tasted the iron of blood. It stung just enough to keep him present, to draw him back to what Trip was saying. He was clearly upset, embarrassed, confused.  _ He’s your friend, Malcolm. Be a friend.  _   
  
“Trip,” he muttered, making his voice as soft as possible. 

Trip looked up, distress all over his face. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. I didn’t want to make things…” He gestured at the palpable tension. “Can we…?”  _ The poor man is distraught.  _ “I didn’t want to lie to you, I’m sorry I lied to you about T’Pol. But I didn’t want to tell anyone. I was too embarrassed.” He rubbed his face with his hands and leaned on his knees.

“What do you need, Trip?” Malcolm asked. “What would make you happy?” His face was calculating. 

“I honestly don’t know. I like how neuropressure makes me feel but...” He groaned, conflicted. “T’Pol scares me, Malcolm.” 

“Then stop seeing her.” He stated matter of factly. “You don’t have to go to her. You have other friends.” He realized how petty that sounded after he said it. It stung him too. He started to apologize and Trip held up a hand.  _ I just needed someone to listen. He’s not even listening. _

“Y’know, I… I’m not sure we can do this, Mal.” 

Malcolm’s heart dropped to his stomach and anchored there, dense. “Trip, I didn’t mean to be so petty…” 

“No, I think you did.” The hurt showed on his face openly. “I think sometimes yer really inconsiderate. I don’t care that yer British, that y’all talk like that.” He spat. “I just told you all this vulnerable shit an’ ya brushed it off like it was nothin'. All ya can say is don’t see T’Pol? It’s the only thing that’s made me feel better after Lizzie died, the only thing that’s helped me sleep. An’...” 

“Trip, I don’t want to take that away from you because I’m being petty or jealous. Of which I can admit I am both.” He tried to smile, to offer a bit of peace. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. Please don’t make me leave, not yet.” He pleaded. 

Trip’s face was red with anger now. “What do ya mean jealous?” His eyes narrowed.

“I mean I was, well am,” he stuttered as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “...jealous of T’Pol and Cole, and every woman you’ve been with. I didn’t realize you were bi or had been with men. I haven’t even processed everything you’ve said to me. I thought because you figured out I was trans last night that you didn’t see me as a man anymore. I thought you were straight and fetishizing me. I thought…”

“You didn’t ask! We’ve never talked about it!” He shouted, enraged. “How could ya think  _ so  _ little of me? We’ve known each other for THREE YEARS, Malcolm! Three years! We’re  _ friends _ ! I would never fetishize you!” He had raised his hands, gesturing wildly as he yelled.

“I didn’t want to ask.” His features darkened with bad memories. “I’m sorry! I don’t go around telling people about my...my personal life because they’ve been complete arseholes!” 

“That don’t give you a right ta hold it against  _ me _ !” They both scoffed angrily and looked away from each other. 

Trip growled. “I just wanted someone to talk to. I shoulda known you would just brush me off.” 

“Is that so, Mr. Tucker? You think I just brushed you off? I tried to listen. Do you realize that in the same conversation that you came out to me, you also told me you lied to me, made out with Cole, had sex with T’Pol, and that I am the object of your affections?” He blinked incredulously at Trip. “That was the same conversation. Don’t you think that’s a lot to hold?” His voice was even, but a bit confused. 

“That’s fair.” Trip grunted. “I’m mad 'cause you took it personally. An' I’m mad 'cause I was tryin’ ta tell you my feelin’s...about T’Pol, about her makin’ me uncomfortable. An’ it felt like ya weren’t listenin’. And I hate that. I hate feelin’ invisible.”

“Trip you couldn’t possibly be invisible. Everyone knows what you’re thinking and feeling all the time because you’re so honest.” He meant that to be a compliment, to be an observation of reality.

“No, I’m not! I don’t tell people how I actually feel all the time! Just because you can read my mood on my face don’t mean that you actually know what I’m thinkin’ and feelin’! It’s like people don’t actually try to listen to me! Like you don’t!” 

“Trip, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Ugh!” Trip huffed loudly.

Malcolm stood and walked to Trip. He kneeled in front of him and took his hands in his own and squeezed them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I was petty. I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you were saying. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry. Forgive me?” 

Trip groaned. “It’s late, Malcolm.” He glanced up and the chronometer read 2345.

“Trip.” He squeezed the Engineer’s rough hands again, trailing a thumb over one of Trip’s. 

“Okay,” he said exasperated. “I forgive ya.” He leaned forward and pressed his warm, sweaty forehead against Malcolm’s dirty one. “Do ya forgive me?” They met each other’s eyes and blinked in sync, their breaths evening together.  _ I don’t understand what this bloody Yank does to me.  _

“I think I do, yes.” He leaned up and kissed Trip gingerly, letting his lips linger just longer than the pressure lasted. Trip leaned in and kissed him harder, pushing his lips open with his tongue. Malcolm sighed and opened his mouth more. He traced his tongue along the edge of Trip’s lips and breathed warm air into his mouth. Trip moaned and nipped Malcolm’s tongue gently with his teeth. Malcolm reciprocated by taking Trip’s lower lip in his teeth and pulling, just hard enough to make blood swell into his lip. 

Trip bit Malcolm’s top lip, mirroring his movements, then grabbed the armory officer’s shoulders and pulled him up off the ground and onto the bed. The kiss broke and Malcolm groaned. He followed the engineer’s steady hands onto the mattress, then pushed Trip onto his back. He straddled Trip’s hips and leaned in, nipping at the blond’s ear. Trip let out a hitched breath and was met with a smug chuckle. The engineer clutched the armory officer’s waist and pulled him down and closer, pressing their bodies together. Malcolm kept his lips on Trip’s skin, trailing them around his ear, and then to the soft, tender spot behind his ear. Trip moaned again. Malcolm licked from Trip’s ear to his neck down. He bit the sensitive skin at the base of his neck and sucked softly, pulling blood to the top. 

Trip’s fingers tightened on Malcolm’s waist, pulling his hips down hard onto his own. Malcolm gasped, feeling Trip getting hard under him.  _ Too fast, too fast.  _ He pushed himself up and then rolled over onto his side, pulling Trip with him. They lay there, kissing and nipping for what felt like forever, each propped on one arm. Trip’s free hand found its way into Malcolm’s hair, tugging and guiding him to more kisses. Malcolm had shoved his hand under Trip’s tee and pushed his fingers just under Trip’s waistband, grasping at the engineer’s hip. Their breathing was ragged. Malcolm could hear the blood pounding in his head. The kisses slowed and eventually stopped, their faces broken apart but only by inches. Each of them ruddy with desire. 

Trip removed his grip from Malcolm’s hair. He drew a finger from his ear to his cheek, then brushed the dark hair from Malcolm’s forehead, lingering on the bruise. He placed his palm on Malcolm's cheek and rubbed a thumb against the bruise on his angular cheek bone, then his lips. “Well,” he sighed, a content smile on his face.   
  
“Well,” Malcolm repeated and pulled his hand out of Trip’s waist band. He reached up and pulled Trip’s hand off his face and kissed it. “I think I need to wash up and go to bed now.” Trip sighed disappointedly but sat up. Malcolm stood slowly, trembling from lack of sleep and also the aching desire he felt in his groin. Trip stood behind him and rested his head on Malcolm’s shoulder, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Lieutenant.” He whispered in Malcolm’s ear. Malcolm shuddered. “Good night, Mr. Tucker.”   
  
He made his way across the room and pressed the release button to the door. The chronometer read 0200. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Trip. “I’ll see you at 0700.” They exchanged massive grins, and Malcolm disappeared into the hallway. Trip fell back on his bed and sighed. He did not have nightmares that night.


	3. 1730 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip is avoidant. Malcolm is persistent. Hoshi is observant. T'Pol can't take a hint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own ST. All mistakes are my own. Unbeta-ed.

Malcolm dropped face down onto his bed, legs splayed open, arms strewn above his head. He burrowed his warm, bruised face into the sheets and sighed heavily. The room spun. He was exhausted.  _ What the bloody hell just happened?  _ He felt his cheeks and lips drawn into a smile as the Star Fleet issue bedding cradled his face. There was a pressure and heat radiating from his groin, the warmth of arousal and passion. Memories of the night flashed on repeat in his mind. The taste of salt and musk of Trip’s skin, strong, sure hands clutching his hips, fingers that pulled his hair taut on his scalp, teeth on neck, tingling bruised lips, a hardness against his groin. And there were visions of the night before. Trip’s hands on his skin, the paradox of his tender caress and confident pressure, echoed moans and breaths, and the pleasant agony of closely shared space.

The armory officer reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and found his way to the bath. He kicked his boots off, disrobed and unceremoniously dropped his soiled clothing to the floor. More than a day’s work done. Twenty hours worth of sweat and heat. Four hours of a new passion. Naked, he could smell his body. The sweat and the arousal and Trip’s spit on his face and neck. Their earthy, deep scents intermingling, a taste, lingering. He was lightheaded. Malcolm stepped into the shower stall and twisted the knob. Warm water washed over him and the heat from his arousal spread out to every inch of his body. It felt the same as in Trip’s quarters - erotic and sensual. He slumped against the wall, overwhelmed with desire he did not have the energy to address. 

There was an edge. A precipice. He felt so close to falling over it, drowning in Trip, in his cobalt eyes, in his firm, work-hewn hands, in his courage and his passion and his drive. In his heart. In his lilting, drawling voice. This man he had watched for three years, who he had befriended, who he had escaped death with more times than he could count. It felt like drunkenness. Heavy and swirling and warm. The intensity with which his body burned for Charles Tucker III smoldered in his chest, deep in his ribcage, like an ache that felt like a fire that had burned there always. 

Malcolm washed his hair, conditioned it, and then soaped up his body. He drew the water over his face and let his fingers pass gently over his eyelids, his lips. He discarded the day’s dirt and sweat. Trip’s hands ghosted over his shoulders and his hips. He imagined the engineer’s hand brushing over his crotch, between his thighs. He felt at home in the warmth, in the embrace of the memory of the man, his friend, their growing closeness. Then he wiped away his arousal, trying not to linger too long, not to focus on the carnal. Not right now. Not yet. He drove away the salt of his perspiration and the exhaustion. He felt safe. Different. Whole. The stream of water stopped abruptly. The ten allotted minutes were over. He stepped out of the stall, enveloped by steam, and relished the new sensation he had found in Trip’s quarters, in his arms. It was fluid and swelling and different. It bloomed in his chest. It was hope.

\----

“We’re gonna have a long day if we can’t stay on task, y’all. I know it’s been rough these last couple a’ weeks in the Expanse, but we’ve got to get these repairs done or we’re gonna be caught with our pants down the next time we come toe to toe with a Xindi ship.” Trip came down the stairs to Engineering at 07:55 and grabbed a stack of PADDs off of his desk. He scrolled through them quickly and noted all of the updates from the previous shift. They had finished most of the repairs from the attacks sustained a few weeks before. He made his way to the Gravimetric Field Displacement Manifold and checked the logs.  _ 08:00, logs read mostly normal. _ A few readings were off and Trip motioned to Lieutenant Hess to assist. She climbed up and began making adjustments when Trip gasped. “Commander?”

Trip doubled over at the console. The room spun and his knees felt weak. He coughed and started to gag.  _ God not here. Not now.  _ Images flooded Trip’s mind once more. He saw himself from the stranger’s perspective, a recurring motif. The slender, olive hands from before were around his neck again. Their nails dug in deep, drawing blood. They ripped him from the floor and dangled him in the air like a doll. He could see his own eyes clamped shut, his mouth open in what must have been a scream. 

His own hands flew up to grab the wrists of his attacker to no avail. There were no wrists, no hands, only his. Tucker was cowering on the metal scaffold in front of the console, curled up, his arms gripping his neck. His breath was ragged and he gasped for air, a low moan escaping his throat. “Commander!” A voice shouted from far away. Then there was nothing but blackness. Hess dropped down and held him. “Commander, what’s happening?! Ensign, call Phlox! We need him NOW!” 

Trip opened his eyes and found the unmistakable facade of a Denobulan doctor hovering above him. He palmed his forehead. “My head is spinning, Doc. What happened?” He touched his head to his sweaty forehead.

Phlox chuckled sadly. “You passed out in Engineering, Commander. I have not yet been able to determine the cause.” 

“Oh. I passed out?” His face flushed with embarrassment. A calloused hand ran through disheveled blond hair.

“You did, in fact.“ He paused and assessed the engineer. “You are dehydrated and I can tell you have not been sleeping enough the last few days. That could have had an effect on you.” He tutted paternally. “You really must take better care of yourself, Commander.”

Trip grunted and rubbed his eyes.    
  
“Why haven’t you been sleeping, Commander Tucker?”

“Well…” He tried to avoid Dr. Phlox’s question, but the Denobulan gave him a stern look. “I’ve been having nightmares most nights.”  _ And some personal visits. “ _ And sometimes the nightmares happen while I’m awake. They’re really violent. I can see myself through someone else’s eyes and they’re always hurtin’ me.”

“How interesting, albeit unfortunate!” Phlox’s expression was pensive. “How long have you been having these nightmares and intrusive thoughts, Commander?” Interest glittered in his piercing blue eyes.

“I dunno, Doc. Since a few weeks after the Xindi attack on Earth maybe?”

“I thought you were sleeping better with the Vulcan neuropressure sessions?”  
  
Trip flushed again and averted his eyes from Phlox’s gaze. “I was at first. Not anymore I guess.”   
  
“Commander, can you think of any particular stressful events or heightened states of mood before these experiences? Anything that could have brought them on?”

“No, not really. My body goes all cold and hot at the same time when it happens, an’ I get weak an’ nauseated. They’re just there, like a movie. I’ve never passed out before though.

“And you’re certain they are not memories?” A confused expression donned his features.

“No, they’re not memories. The images I’m seein’ aren’t things that have happened.”

“Interesting. Let me just take a few more scans…” He busied himself over Trip with a medical tricorder and fluttered about his monitors. Trip laid his head back down on the bio bed while Phlox collected data. They were inconclusive, though the doctor had a hunch about what might be influencing the commander’s wellbeing. 

“Commander, you are exhausted. You have had little sleep the past few days, you are dehydrated, and you are stressed.” He paused and stared assertively at Tucker. 

“You are relieved of duty for the day. I know you are off tomorrow as well. I do not want to see you anywhere near Engineering or the Bridge for the next 48 hours. Get something from the mess, hydrate, and go to bed. Dismissed.” 

\----- 

Malcolm settled into his station at the bridge at 07:55. Ensign Sato was already at her post when he arrived. She looked up at Malcolm and smiled. “Lieutenant.” 

Malcolm nodded and flashed a smile back. “Ensign.” 

Hoshi’s gaze flitted to his neck and then back up to his eyes. A devilish grin broke out on her face. Malcolm’s PADD pinged as he settled into Tactical.

HS: Nice bruise. 

MR: Which one?

HS: The new one on your neck, peeking out of your collar.

Malcolm’s fingers twitched. He forced himself not to touch his neck and instead looked up at Hoshi. She was still grinning. He scoffed and looked back down at the PADD nervously.

MR: What are you suggesting, Ensign?

HS: Oh, I don’t know.

MR: Hoshi.

HS: I’m just saying it’s a nice addition to your collection.

The door to the Bridge opened and Archer and T’Pol entered. The chronometer read 07:58. Mayweather arrived a few moments later and settled into his station at the helm. 

“Let’s get this day under way!” Archer seemed as enthusiastic as ever considering they were looking for a weapon of mass destruction. Malcolm turned the PADD off and set it out of the way then directed his attention to the Captain’s morning brief. Archer demanded the attention of his Bridge crew. He began a monologue about the Xindi, about Azati prime, and generally about getting shit done. Malcolm was having a hard time concentrating on the grave mission ahead. His head was still stuck in the night before. 

Archer was still rambling on about being human and their duty to Earth when Malcolm glanced at the chronometer on his station - 08:00.  _ It’s only been two minutes? _ Malcolm surveyed the room and tried to gauge the other Bridge officers’ levels of attention. T’Pol looked distracted and her skin seemed paler than usual.  _ Is that sweat? _ She clearly wasn’t listening any more than he was, and didn’t respond when Archer called her name. “T’Pol? T’Pol, do you have a report?” 

Her eyes were glazed over. She raised her head and blinked at Archer. “I’m sorry, Captain. The report…” She referenced the monitor on her station. She shared two updates and then got quiet again. Malcolm exchanged a worried look with Travis and Hoshi and then returned his attention to Archer. As usual, he barrelled through the report and began another tangential rant.

Around 08:30 the comm chimed on the bridge. 

“Phlox to the Captain.” 

“Go ahead, Doc.” 

“Can you take a call in the ready room, please?”

“Sure thing.” Archer raised an eyebrow. The bridge crew shifted uncomfortably and busied themselves with quiet tasks, attempting to eavesdrop to no avail. 

In the Ready Room, Phlox notified Archer that Trip would be off duty for the next 48 hours. 

“Can I ask why?” Archer’s voice was laden with curiosity.

“Doctor patient privilege, Captain.” He stated.

Archer rolled his eyes. “Alright, Doc,” he groused.  _ I guess I’ll have to ask him myself. Not sure why he wouldn’t talk to me if something was wrong. _

Tension settled over the Bridge crew. Something had happened.  _ Maybe Phlox analyzed the data taken from the trans-dimensional being and found something conclusive? _ Malcolm pondered the threat of the Xindi weapon and what it meant for the crew, for humanity. It loomed over everyone. The idea that Earth could be gone, that the entirety of humanity and its endless cultures and histories could be destroyed shook him. Everyone seemed to live in a fugue state, getting through each day only by hoping that they could stop the eradication of their families and homes. Malcolm shook his head sullenly.  _ How could anyone possibly stay focused with nothing specific to accomplish and yet so much to do? _

The shift droned on impossibly with no news and only banal tasks to complete. Hoshi was attentive, thriving on the predictable nature of language and communication. When not speaking with the Captain, she busied herself with studying the Insect and Aquatic Xindi dialects. Travis manned the helm as usual while cross referencing star charts. T’Pol hovered over the science station awkwardly. She looked busy but Malcolm could sense that she wasn’t working with drive or interest like usual. He remembered what Trip had told him the day before, about their encounter, that she made him uncomfortable, that he was struggling with neuropressure. He surveyed her a few moments before Archer dismissed them for lunch, wondering if she felt as conflicted as Trip did.

Malcolm, Hoshi and Travis showed up in the Mess together from the Bridge. Malcolm scanned the room for Trip but he wasn’t there. They each grabbed a sandwich, a dessert and some water, then settled into a table. Most of the tables were empty except one table over full of a group of crewmen from Engineering.

“I wonder what Phlox wanted.” Travis mused, pensive.

Hoshi stabbed at her salad with a fork. “Not sure. I couldn’t hear anything before Captain Archer closed the door.”

Malcolm’s eyes were trained on the Engineering crew. They were huddled over their food, gossiping.  _ If anyone would have info on Trip, it would be them. _ Sick Bay wasn’t too far from Engineering, so if anyone had gotten ill, it was likely that they traveled past Engineering to get to Sick Bay. It seemed that the Engineering crew tended to know things that happened in the belly of Enterprise, therefore they were a good place to gather scuttlebutt. 

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Travis asked quizzically, then followed his sights to the table nearest them. Hoshi caught on and turned to stare as well. “Do you think they know something?”

“Well,” he growled softly, “if you two would stop being so obvious and just listen we might find out, eh?” He whispered.

They quieted and turned back around, pretending to eat.

“...he was at the warp reactor checking the logs when he screamed and just fell out!”

“Really? What happened? Was there a systems overload? Did he get shocked?”

“Nothing! He just passed out all the sudden.”

“Weird. I wonder why? He has looked kind of tired lately.”

“I heard that Smith said they haven’t seen him coming out of the Subcommander’s room in days…”

The Communications and Helm officers whispered in unison, “Commander Tucker!” Malcolm almost choked when he figured it out but metered his response.

“Does that mean he quit the neuropressure sessions?”

“Maybe! I can’t imagine ever quitting them,” a young female ensign said dreamily. 

“Well, l heard from Cutler he’s dismissed for the next 48 hours. Maybe he’ll hole up with the Subcommander and get some Grade-A healing.”

A chorus of giggles gushed from the table.

“I dunno. Didn’t you see how Corporal Cole swatted his butt in training the other day? And weren’t they-”

“Yeah I heard about their neuropressure sessions too!”

There was more laughter and an eruption of shushing noises. One Ensign slapped another on the arm and they gave each other warning looks. They quieted their voices again and the Bridge crew had to strain to hear.

“I heard Cole almost yelling at him in the mess yesterday afternoon. She said he blew her off for someone else—”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Malcolm coughed and sputtered his drink on his plate. Hoshi and Travis glared at him. 

“Malcolm!” They chorused in an angry whisper. He raised his eyebrows in apology and shrugged. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, fighting back the blush welling in his cheeks. Travis and Hoshi leaned back to get closer to the other table suspiciously, but the young crewmen didn’t take notice.

“Hess saw him coming out of the room at 02:00 last night-” They shared a look.

“Wow really? I never would have thought…” 

“They’re both so attractive.” Someone sighed. More laughter.

Malcolm felt heat in his face as the blush broke through. He abruptly stood and left to get more water, praying to the gods that Hoshi and Travis hadn’t heard who left which room at 02:00. He knew they were speaking about him.

When he sat back down the Engineering Ensigns had disappeared. Travis and Hoshi had resumed their own gossiping. They looked up at him in unison. Hoshi’s eyes were bright. It was as if she could see right through him. “So what did you two put together?” He offered as inconspicuously as he could manage.

Hoshi smiled. “Well, we figured out that Commander Tucker is off for the next two days, he blacked out in Engineering, and that his personal life has been  _ very  _ vibrant the last week or so.”

Travis wiped his mouth and laughed. “So it seems he’s not doing neuro-pressure with Corporal Cole anymore,” he raised his eyebrows surprised. 

“And no one has seen him go into or come out of T’Pol’s room in days.” Hoshi added.

“Corporal Cole just yelled at him yesterday, so he probably wasn’t with  _ her  _ during the days he wasn’t with Subcommander T’Pol.” Travis said thoughtfully.

“They said they saw him come out of someone’s room at 02:00 this morning. Someone attractive.” Hoshi raised her eyebrows and her eyes flitted to Malcolm’s neck, remembering the hickey. “I wonder who else has been getting Commander Tucker’s attention that also happens to be extremely gorgeous?” She smiled at Travis, putting it together. 

Travis shrugged. “I dunno, but they’re one lucky person.” His eyes glittered.

Malcolm gulped his water and looked at the chronometer on the Mess’ wall. “Interesting. I thought he referred to himself as a perfect gentleman?” They all laughed. 

“I suppose we better head back to the Bridge, eh Lieutenant?” Hoshi shot Malcolm a smug look and then strutted out of the Mess.

——

Trip woke to a chime at his door. “Go away,” he grumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. The door chimed again. “I said go away!” he yelled at the door. A third chime rang. “Damn it!” He pulled himself upright and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The door chimed yet again. He padded to the door and smashed the comm button. “Keep yer shirt on! I’ll be there in a second!”  _ They’re really persistent. _

He grabbed a t-shirt off a chair and opened the door as he pulled it over his head. “What is it?!” he barked as the shirt slid over his head. “Oh, hi Malcolm.” 

Malcolm snickered at the sight of the Engineer. He was wearing only boxers and a wrinkled tee. He palmed Trip’s chest and pushed him backward into the room. The door closed behind them.

“Hello, love.” Malcolm smiled and bit his lip.

“Hey. Aren’t you on Bridge duty today?”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. He was holding a tray of food - a glass of sweet tea, soup, a sandwich, and a slice of pecan pie. “It’s 17:30, Trip. I imagine you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“What?” He squinted his eyes and glanced at the chronometer above his desk. “Well shit.” 

Malcolm moved to the small table and cleared a space for the tray. Trip’s endless clutter confused him. “I don’t know how you keep track of any of your things,” he muttered. “Now eat.” He motioned to one of the chairs and sat down in the other.

“Yer pushy, Lieutenant.” Trip smirked and sat down in the chair next to Malcolm. His bare thigh rested comfortably against Malcolm’s. He grasped the Lieutenant’s knee before picking up half of the gifted sandwich. 

Malcolm watched him quizzically. He seemed normal, if a little tired. “What’s going on, Trip?” 

Trip gazed at Malcolm as he stuffed his face with more sandwich, avoiding the question. “Thanks for the food,” he said with his mouth full. 

Malcolm rolled his eyes and huffed. “That’s impolite behavior, Commander.” 

“You like it.” Trip picked up the other half of the sandwich. 

“I'm not sure about that. Liking you does not mean that I like your lack of table manners.” He shook his head and placed a hand on Trip’s thigh. His thumb rubbed across Trip’s knee idly as he finished his meal. Trip looked up from his tray at Malcolm when he was done and placed his hand on the other man’s. 

“Tell me about yer day, Lieutenant.” He smiled and wiped his mouth.

“While I have a lot to tell you, I asked you first.” Malcolm frowned at Trip’s avoidance. 

“You have a lot ta’ tell me?” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well go ahead, Sunshine.” He licked his lips and grinned, squeezing Malcolm’s hand. 

“Trip, stop avoiding the question. What’s going on with you?” He stared at Trip expectantly, searching for clues on his face. 

“Malcolm,” he groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” He laced his fingers in Malcolm’s and stood, pulling on Malcolm’s arm. He stubbornly stayed seated. 

“Trip.” His voice was stern. 

“Malcolm,” he echoed tauntingly. Still holding Macolm’s hand, he sat on the Armory officer’s lap and wrapped his legs around the seated man’s hips. He cupped Macolm’s cheek in his other hand and kissed him softly. Malcolm sighed and pulled back. 

“Trip, you can’t seduce me to get out of the conversation.” 

“Watch me,” he shot back.

His hand moved back and threaded his fingers into thick, dark hair. He tugged the man’s head to the side gently. Malcolm moaned faintly in response and closed his eyes. Trip leaned forward and kissed the man’s pale, bruised neck, trailing up and down, on and behind his ear. He licked and sucked on his skin, making note of every spot that elicited a noise from the man beneath him. He returned his lips to Malcolm’s ear and ran his tongue around the outside and then slowly pushed it in, leaving warm spit and a trail of heat. Malcolm whimpered.

“That’s right,” Trip whispered into his ear. Malcolm groaned again. His hands found Trip’s waist and he slid his fingers under his t-shirt, grazing his skin with his short nails. His hands moved up Trip’s sides and to the top of his back. He squeezed Trip’s shoulders and pulled him close. The blond man exhaled a hot breath on the other’s neck where he had left another new, dark mark. He brought his face up to the man below him and smiled deviously. 

“Trip.” Malcolm sighed. “I don’t need any more bruises.” Trip laughed rakishly and leaned in close.    
  
“Are you sure?” He brushed his lips against Malcolm’s and smiled. Malcolm leaned forward to meet the kiss and Trip yanked his head back teasingly. 

“You’re cruel, Commander,” he moaned. Trip pulled Malcolm’s head to the other side, exposing the neglected skin. He placed a kiss on Malcolm’s ear, blowing a soft stream of air into it. Malcolm gasped and moaned louder. He dug his nails into Trip’s skin and pulled them down the length of his back. 

Malcolm could hear Trip’s breath catch in his ear. He let out a small groan and pulled Malcolm’s hair hard in retaliation. Malcolm yelped. Trip laughed softly and ran his tongue down his neck to the collar of his uniform and sucked hard, leaving another mark. With the sure hands of an engineer, Trip clutched the collar of Malcolm’s jumpsuit and pulled it down. Malcolm let go of Trip and freed his arms from the sleeves. Trip pushed the suit to Malcolm’s waist then took Malcolm’s face in his palms. Ice and ocean eyes gleamed at each other before each man moved closer and they brought their lips together in a deep kiss. It was hard, sure, wanton. Trip pushed Malcolm’s lips open with his tongue and entered his mouth. Malcolm wrapped his tongue around Trip’s, tasting him, feeling the pressure and need of the other man’s mouth on his.

Their passion grew steadily, each kiss and moan and breath making them ache with desire. Malcolm slid his hands down into the waistband of Trip’s boxers and clutched his hips. The blond man ground his ass into Malcolm’s lap. Malcolm shuddered, hips bucking up to meet the man on top of him. He dug his fingers into the flesh on Trip’s hips and they repeated the motion, moaning into each other’s mouths as they lapped at each other. It was as if they were starving for each other. Trip’s erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers, pressed hard against Malcom’s stomach. He pulled Malcolm's tee up to reveal skin and pressed his hardness into the other’s midriff. Malcolm gasped and pulled the Engineer’s closer, rolling his hips up against Trip’s ass. He let his hands stray downward and ran his fingers over Trip’s buttocks, groping. He could feel a layer of fine hair coating the man’s soft, warm skin. His ass was supple but firm and strong. 

“Fuck, Trip.” Malcolm moved his hands back up to Trip’s waistband and started to shove it down when Trip’s door chimed.

They both froze and shared a terrorized look. Malcolm’s heart rate beat a percussive cadence in his ears. His breath caught in his throat and he shoved Trip backward. “Go!” he hissed, making like he was going to get up. Trip fell backward and caught himself on the table, then awkwardly extricated himself from Malcolm’s lap. As soon as he was free from Trip’s legs, Malcolm jetted to the bathroom silently and locked the door behind him. 

The chime rang again. “ONE SECOND!” Trip bellowed, frantically searching for pants. “Malcolm, do you see any pants?” He whispered anxiously. Malcolm opened the door to Trip’s bathroom and held out a robe. Trip grabbed the robe and wrapped himself up, then answered the door.

“T’Pol?” His face was flushed with embarrassment and anger. 

“Commander Tucker.” She walked in uninvited. 

T’Pol surveyed the room. It was messy by her standards. The table had a tray of food -  _ enough for two?  _ \- and stacks of books, miscellaneous PADDs and papers, and tools. She noticed a pair of boots under the table that looked to be too small for the Commander and another pair just under Trip’s bed. Trip followed her eyes to Malcolm’s boots and grabbed them then chunked them into the closet. He turned away from T’Pol and started to awkwardly tidy the room. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbled. “What...are you doing here?” 

“If you do not show up to our neuropressure session tonight, it will be the third time that you have missed it in the last two weeks.” Her voice was cold.

“Yeah.” He grunted, still tidying clutter to keep his hands busy. His voice sounded strained but firm. 

She looked at him quizzically. “Will you be joining me tonight?”

Trip huffed. “T’Pol, I don’t want to do the session today. I haven’t felt well and I need to be alone.” 

“Neuropressure would likely help remedy whatever ails you.” When Trip glanced up to meet her eyes, he saw what looked like a slight scowl on the Vulcan’s face.

“No, I don’t think it would.” He rubbed his face, clearly losing his patience.

“You are avoiding me.” T’Pol stated, a hint of frustration in her voice. 

“No, I just don’t wanna do neuropressure anymore.” He admitted. 

“It was helping you sleep.” She sounded like she was accusing him of something.

“I don’t want to anymore.” His voice was getting angrier. 

“That is illogical. If it has been helping, there is no reason to discontinue the sessions.” 

“There doesn’t have to be a reason that seems logical to  _ you _ , T’Pol. Not wanting to continue is enough.” 

“I suppose.” She paused and turned away from Trip, arms behind her back. “Is this because we had sex, Commander Tucker?”

Trip dropped what he was holding and scoffed. “You treated me like an  _ object _ , T’Pol. An experiment.” His tone was laden with disgust.

She turned to face him again before speaking. He was clearly upset, the lines on his face deep and his complexion ruddy. 

“We spoke about this. I was under the impression that we agreed that it would be logical to continue neuropressure without the involvement of sex.” 

“Well, I don’t want to continue any of it!” His voice raised. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. 

“Look, T’Pol. I don’t want to engage with you beyond anything professional anymore.” He tried to meter his voice. 

“Neuropressure is professional, Commander Tucker. Unless you make it otherwise.” 

Fuming again, he shouted at T’Pol. “Argh! We’re not continuing neuropressure, I’m not being unprofessional, I’m done with this conversation! Please  _ leave _ !” He spat the last word with venom and gestured angrily at the door. 

T’Pol raised an eyebrow and turned on her heel toward the door. “If that is what you wish.”

Trip opened the door, clearly agitated, and T’Pol walked out without looking back at him. She paused just a meter from the door and said, “I will notify Dr. Phlox that we are no longer continuing the neuropressure sessions should you seek his care in the event that your insomnia resumes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter a bit. Please leave encouragement if you think it was good, and gentle constructive criticism if there's something you'd like to see. I have started on the 4th chapter already. I'm trying to make it fit together well. It's been fun so far and I hope you're still enjoying it.


	4. 1800 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm comforts Trip and gets into trouble.

_Chapter 4_

Trip slammed the panel to close the door and then fell carelessly into a chair at the table. The door shut and locked behind him. He was hunched over the table, head placed firmly in his hands. “I can’t believe her.” He sighed heavily and stared down at the table blankly, lost to a faraway place in his mind. 

The bathroom door opened silently, and Malcolm stepped out, bootless, hair disheveled, and jumpsuit half zipped. “Trip?” He slid into the chair next to Trip and rested his hand on the man’s bare thigh.

A low groan escaped the bowed figure. “I didn’t wanna think about it, Malcolm. And then she just showed up.” 

Malcolm traced a broad circle on Trip’s leg. He felt the man’s muscles tense under his fingertips. The soft hairs raised, and a smattering of gooseflesh appeared. _When he’s ready. He always talks when he’s ready._

Trip rubbed his hands over his face and then leaned back in the chair. He squirmed uncomfortably and sighed then placed a hand over Malcolm’s and squeezed. He was visibly anguished. His shoulders were stiff and there was a guarded expression on his face. He was holding back. He didn’t want to acknowledge his experiences with T’Pol, his nightmares and anxiety attacks. “It just don’t make sense, Malcolm. I’m feelin’ jumbled an’ confused.” Trip blinked and then reached for a glass of tea. He drank deeply, savoring the flavor, the distraction. He turned his head toward Malcolm and gazed sideways at him for a moment before he continued. 

“I’ve been havin’ nightmares. An’ some of them durin’ the day?” His head swayed back and forth discontentedly. “Every time, I see myself through someone else’s eyes. In the past, they’ve been watchin’ me, stalkin’ me. Lately,” he bit his lip and his brow furrowed, “they’ve been chokin’ me.” Grave blue eyes darted back to Malcolm’s face and met cool grey ones. Malcolm’s expression was neutral and attentive. “I passed out in Engineerin’ today and woke up in Sick Bay. Yesterday mornin’ I almost passed out, and I threw up. I haven’t been sleepin’ well. So, Phlox gave me two days of medical leave.” A broken expression overtook his face briefly, then morphed into something more disengaged and blank. 

Malcolm stayed silent in an attempt to give Trip space to process. He rhythmically rubbed his hand against Trip’s thigh in an attempt to soothe the man. “I just dunno what to think. The timeline is confusin’.” He paused and assessed Malcolm’s expression. The dark haired man seemed interested and engaged. “When I started neuro pressure with T’Pol, right after Lizzie died, it helped. Or I thought it did. I kept havin’ nightmares, but I slept better, felt better.” He frowned. “I talked to T’Pol some but mostly it was a nice distraction. My body felt calmer. I felt calmer. But lately it’s been different. My dreams started changin’. They started to get violent. It got worse when I stopped seeing T’Pol after… after we...” His voice broke.

Malcolm nodded and squeezed Trip’s thigh gently. “I know, Trip.” His voice was soft.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Trip had receded into himself and a series of painful expressions passed across his face. Malcolm grasped his hand and stood slowly. “Why don’t you get some rest, love?” He pulled Trip’s hand and the blond man followed and stood to face Malcolm. They shuffled toward the bed and Trip laid down, swallowed by the mattress. Malcolm gingerly pulled a blanket over him and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Trip laid on his side, curled up with his back to Malcolm. “Thanks,” Trip mumbled in a garbled voice. 

“Of course.” Malcolm smiled softly and ran his fingers through Trip’s hair. There was only the sound of the men’s breathing and the rustling of Trip’s hair as Malcolm continued stroking. Trip sighed and his breath evened as he settled into the blankets.

“I’m scheduled for another training session with the MACOs this evening. I’m going to let you rest now.” Trip grunted sleepily. “Alright.” Malcolm leaned down and placed his lips gently on Trip’s forehead before putting on his boots. At the door he gave Trip a smile and disappeared into the hallway. Malcolm sighed in relief. 

The hallway was clear. He rushed to his quarters and changed into something more appropriate for the gym and made his way to training. Sweats, a t-shirt, trainers. He grabbed a protein bar and a water bottle and dashed back into the hall toward the turbolift. The lift doors opened as he walked up to them. Malcolm started at the sight of T’Pol. She raised one eyebrow and nodded at Malcolm, holding the door.

“Lieutenant.” 

He blinked and moved into the turbo lift. 

“Subcommander.” 

The pair stood on opposite sides of the small lift, an uncomfortable tension filling the air. T’Pol eyed Malcolm for a moment before speaking. “Have you been in contact with Commander Tucker this afternoon, Lieutenant?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Malcolm spluttered.

“The Commander. He was ill this morning. I was curious if you have spoken with him today.” Her face was almost neutral, but there was something hidden behind her eyes that sent Malcolm’s stomach in whirls. 

“Ah, er, yes I spoke with him about an update to the plasma cannons today. He did seem a bit rough around the edges today.” He tried his best to keep his voice and breathing even, praying T’Pol hadn’t caught on. 

“I see. From what I understand, Commander Tucker was excused from duty while you and I were on the Bridge this morning.” 

“Yes, that is true.” Malcolm returned.

“When did you speak to him?” The room filled with a sense of stress.

“We spoke after my shift was over at 1700 hours.” _Be honest and sparing, Malcolm._

“I see. You are _friends,_ yes?” Malcolm swore he could sense accusation in her tone.

“I suppose we have become friends over the years, yes.” He cocked his head to the side in thought, wondering where T’Pol was going. “What is on your mind, Subcommander?”

T’Pol averted her eyes and straightened her back as the turbol ift whirred. “I think Commander Tucker could benefit from continuing Vulcan neuro pressure, but something is stopping him.” She blinked, looking directly at the wall in front of her. “Possibly some _one_.”

“I’m sorry, Subcommander. You think there is someone having some sort of influence on Commander Tucker’s participation in neuro pressure?” Malcolm kept his face as blank, his breath and voice even.

“I believe Commander Tucker is distracted.” She turned her head to Malcolm slowly and glared at him. The turbo lift stopped, the door opened, then she walked out into the hall without a glance back at Malcolm.

Malcolm smirked and shook his head. _Was she accusing me of being the distraction? I’ll have to keep an eye out for her then. Better talk to Trip later._ He sighed and followed T’Pol out of the turbo lift to the gym, where Hayes stood in the center of the room. The MACOS lined the far wall across from Hayes, and the Starfleet personnel in attendance stood about six feet from them. T’Pol was standing off to the side of Ensign Mayweather, who was paired with Ensign Sato, and Crewman Cutler and Lieutenant Hess were present in Tucker’s absence.

Hayes nodded at Malcolm as he walked toward the other Starfleet crew, taking a spot between them and the MACOs, a bridge. Hayes described a new form and demonstrated it with Kemper before splitting everyone into pairs, one MACO to one Starfleet. Before Major Hayes could assign Malcolm a partner, Cole spoke up.

“I’ve got the Lieutenant.”

Everyone looked to her, then to Malcolm, then to Hayes, and then to each other. Hayes nodded and grunted, sharing a quick look with Reed. Malcolm met Cole in stride, then took up a ready stance in front of her. Without warning, she threw a blow, catching Malcolm square in the jaw with her fist. He recovered quickly and dodged the following left hook, grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. She growled and spun around, arcing her leg toward Malcolm’s head.

“Cole!” Malcolm shouted.

“What, too much for ya’, Lieutenant?” She laughed a short, bitter laugh and lunged at Malcolm, whose hands were up, ready to protect his face from any more well-positioned blows. Cole wailed at him, punch after punch. He let her connect two blows to his ribs, but dodged or blocked the rest, making sure not to let her break any bones. With each missed punch and kick, Cole grew more agitated, and sloppier. She let her guard down and Malcolm struck one solid kick to her chest, sending her back and onto her ass. She launched back up and lunged at Malcolm. The Major came out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her away.

“CORPORAL, THAT’S ENOUGH. DISMISSED.”

With a fiery glare, Corporal Cole shrugged the Major’s hand off her shoulder and walked out. Malcolm thanked the Major him with a small nod and stepped away from the gawking group of MACOs and Starfleet officers.  
  
“Sorry about that, Lieutenant.” Hayes offered. “She knows better.”

“It’s alright, Major. I believe I’ve been through worse.” Malcolm shrugged it off, wary of Hayes after their fight just a few days before. It seemed Hayes had left it in the dust, even as Malcolm considered him carefully. “Well, what are you lot looking at? Get back to the exercise!” Malcolm barked at the still-gaping crowd of personnel. The training resumed one pair at a time, some coupled MACOs getting back to it without any hesitation.

Major Hayes and Lieutenant Reed broke away from each other and circled the room, offering critique and supervision for a few moments. Malcolm pushed Travis harder than he had days before, encouraging him to throw his punches in a more economical way.

“Don’t try so hard, Travis! Think smarter. Good!” He hovered for a moment longer before making more rounds through the room. Hoshi was a perfect match for her MACO – sent him flying into the wall behind him. Cutler landed a solid blow to another MACO’s jaw, and Hess was staying toe-to-toe with hers. All well, Malcolm found himself face to face with Major Hayes again.

“How about you try it out on me, eh?” Malcolm pulled his hands up to his chin like he had before, and shifted his weight carefully.

Hayes pulled his fists up and circled the Armory Officer. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for Malcolm to make the first move, and instead lunged forward in an attempt to spear Malcolm to the ground.

The shorter man narrowly dodged the larger man’s lunge. “Come on, Major. You’ll have to do better than that.” He laughed, feeling the adrenaline rush to his head fast.

“So, tell me, Lieutenant. Why is Corporal Cole so pissed at you?” He laughed.

“I’m not entirely sure, Major.” He threw a punch. A miss.

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant. You’re the armory officer, security. It’s your business to know.” He grabbed Malcolm’s wrist and pulled him forward, attempting to get his other hand on Malcolm’s shoulder to better immobilize him.

Lieutenant Reed swerved his body so that his back was to Hayes and his center of gravity was low. He crouched and pulled on Hayes’ arm, hard, throwing him over his shoulder. Hayes grunted as he landed on his back. He reached out and grabbed Malcolm’s ankle, yanking him to the ground.  
  
“Damn.” Malcolm rolled over onto his stomach and then pushed up off the ground back onto his feet in the time it took Hayes to recover.

“You can tell me, Lieutenant. I could probably guess anyway. It has something to do with that Chief Engineer of yours, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Major.” Malcolm gritted his teeth and jabbed at Hayes’ face. His knuckles connected with cheek for a brief moment before Hayes pulled away.

Hayes shook his head and grinned evilly. “You think Cole doesn’t talk to me? She’s been practically screaming about it since he brushed her off.” He leaned in and jabbed back - his fist connecting with Malcolm’s shoulder.

Malcolm pulled away hissing at the sting. “I still have no earthly idea what you’re talking about Major.” He flashed a steely grin and lunged at Hayes, wrapping his arms around the man’s body and tackling him to the floor. They struggled for a moment before Hayes rolled their bodies and pinned Lieutenant Reed to the floor by his shoulders.

“You’re done.” Hayes stood up and offered a hand, which Malcolm took. “We’ll have to talk about this later, but you’re not getting off easy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short compared to the others. But I had to get it updated. I think I found a segue! Which is great because I needed it. Hope ya liked it <3

**Author's Note:**

> (Edit: I also realized I borrowed the opening scene from Five Minutes, another fic about T/R post Hayes fight. I have now marked it as an inspiration because it truly did inspire this fic. Mine’s fluffier & more romance oriented and longer, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy that one too.)


End file.
